


just looking for the next fork in the road

by teal_always



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Oneshot, Uncle Gilbert Blythe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teal_always/pseuds/teal_always
Summary: They say the journey matters more than the destination, but Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is beginning to think the real question is how someone handles the arrival.The world crumbles around them, and Anne isn’t quite ready to see what awaits her at the end of the road.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 33
Kudos: 127





	just looking for the next fork in the road

**Author's Note:**

> This is the end of the story. (Or the beginning, depending on how you look at it.)
> 
> Title from “Before the World Explodes” by The Wind and The Wave

Anne couldn’t sleep.

Such a predicament wasn’t new. The world was ending… or had already ended? Was teetering on the edge? Shit happened. And she was across the country from where she needed to be, but it felt like she was half the world over. A good night’s sleep, free of stress and nightmares and suspicious bumps in the night, was nothing more than a dream… a short dream that turned into the aforementioned nightmare before the aforementioned bump woke her up and she could only sit by the fire until the sun came up… or whatever it was that brought them some sort of light behind the blanket of gray in the sky.

But at this moment she was as close to comfort as she had been in the months that felt like decades. (And it scared her shitless.)

She was days away from reaching her island, so close she could almost taste it. And she was in a real bed for once, in a house with minimal holes and drafts, curled beneath all the blankets they could find, with a man, a child between them for warmth. 

If anyone had asked her how she expected her life to be in her early twenties, in bed with a cute guy would have maybe been part of the answer. But in bed with someone who had been a stranger once upon a time, met in the midst of the chaos and destruction, with the world crumbling around them? Her younger self would have seen it as an adventure. Now? She just wanted to go home.

But home meant separation. Separation from her companions, and the very idea made her anxious. How had she done this on her own for so long? How quickly had she become so accustomed to sharing a space with others? For warmth, safety, companionship...

(But home also meant truths she wasn’t ready to face.)

Anne wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she was glad she hadn’t shot him when he first barged into the building in which she had been staying for the night. She had only lowered her gun when she heard the tiny voice of his niece. If it hadn’t been for her, Anne probably would have shot him. _Definitely_ would have after he insulted her hair color. But now, so close to the end of the road, part of her wanted to turn around and walk in the wrong direction with him. (Just to prolong the inevitable.)

_(She was afraid of what is waiting for her just as much as she’s afraid of losing what she had managed to gather out of the literal ashes of the world.)_

Anne probably would have urged her old students to add some more imagination to their metaphors, but Anne couldn’t shake the idea that she had known Gilbert Blythe for much longer than what was real. But did anything feel real anymore? Crossing the country, wading through the desolation and nerve-rattling silence, felt like a movie. One she was watching, from above, not participating in. And she felt like there had to be some unwritten backstory for her character. Or she was truly losing it. For teaming up with Gilbert and Delphine felt as natural as the world around them was unnatural. Looking into his gaze and her smiles had been a godsend when she needed to burn their surroundings out of her mind’s eye. She could look to them when she needed to look away from the unknown emptiness ahead of them and what was known, facing their backs.

Being mere days away from where they were going, a common destination just by happenstance, made her feel cold. Colder than the snow they trudged through hour by hour until the light disappeared each afternoon and they had to find shelter. 

The world outside was a mystery, the complete opposite of what she knew she would get if she began to weave a story for an enraptured Delphine or met Gilbert’s eye just to get a smile. And the more comfortable she became, the more that fear settled into her bones at what did, or didn’t, await their small group once they made it to the place that had been their desired stopping point since this began.

At least with each place they broke into, that held itself together enough to provide shelter for the night, they expected the emptiness, and they filled it with themselves. But with each empty building and structure, they were just reminded of the two houses they wished to be anything but vacant, when the time was right. Even though timing was never on their side in the middle of this winter wasteland.

Once, a sea of untouched snow held nothing but possibilities and beauty. Now, it was cold and dark and dirty and the lack of footprints simply emphasized the lack of life. Anne didn’t think she could take it if that’s what awaited her at Green Gables. But it was all she could think of, in every quiet moment, as she made her way there.

Giving up on sleep, Anne quietly slipped out of the pocket of warmth and into the cold air. Wrapping her arms around her to keep her body heat from escaping the appropriated UT sweatshirt that fell to her thighs, she made her way to the other part of the house that held their still-smoldering fire. It wasn’t safe, but it was necessary in this weather, so Anne just added a few more pieces of broken table to burn. 

It was easy to lose one’s self in a place like this. It felt like a liminal space, like everywhere did when they were in it. The house was as silent as the world around it, and her eyes were drawn to the life of the fire. It reminded her of the blazes that accompanied the beginning of all of this, before they were taken over by snow and cold and ice. It was a time of contrasts. Either the world was screaming in pain or it was deathly silent, frozen and unmoving. Anne knew it was easy to succumb to the latter. She knew she might have done, had she not found life in the Blythe/Lacroix duo that were so very driven to find the others from whom they had been separated. She wished she could feel as sure as Gilbert seemed when he made unwise promises to their five-year-old companion. But it kept the little girl full of life, and it was contagious. But now, in the night, it was easy to get lost in the flames as if they were the only beating hearts around. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Anne didn’t move as she felt someone join her on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“I used to watch reruns when I had a hard time falling asleep,” Anne said, keeping her voice low and her eyes on the fire. “Or I’d write. Or read. Or rearrange my bookshelf.”

“It’s hard to get your brain to be quiet when there’s so little to focus on,” Gilbert murmured, knees bent and arms draped over them. 

“It’s all too big. And there’s nothing little anymore,” Anne agreed. “Or anything little seems so… dumb.”

“I remember staying up all night to study for a test that I was worried about. But now I can’t remember how it felt to be worried about something like that,” Gilbert said.

Anne shook the ends of her sleeves so they fell over her hands and then fisted the extra fabric so less cool air would reach her fingers. She glanced over at her companion and then couldn’t look away from how the firelight hit his face. In another world, the deep shadows and sharp highlights would be creepy. Maye romantic, if in another kind of story. But this was almost nameless, unfit for any known category. And she had to commit it to memory.

“I remember crying myself to sleep because no one asked me to a dance,” Anne added, forcing herself to face the fire again. “But I still slept that night.”

“Delphine still sleeps like a rock,” Gilbert whispered with a sigh. “Maybe that means all of this didn’t fuck her up too much.”

“Kids are more resilient than you think,” Anne said before looking at him again and finding him looking at her. “She’s lucky to have you, though.”

“I just hope I’m not all she has,” Gilbert revealed, his furrowed brow expressing his worry. “It’s been over ten years since I was last on PEI, and I left because of how empty my house was. I don’t know what I’ll do if it still is…”

“You’ll do what you have to do,” Anne murmured, drawing her knees up like his, crossing her arms on top and resting her cheek on them. It had to be both a blessing and a curse to have someone like Delphine in his care. It had to keep him going, but it had to be torturous. But she could admit that it was a wonder to watch him with her, all day and every day. It was because of him that the child in their care was able to sleep, unlike them.

“But I might not want to,” Gilbert admitted and she felt his sad smile deep in her gut.

“They’ll be there,” Anne whispered, making promises she had no way of keeping and he knew it.

“So will your parents,” Gilbert said, his words as empty as hers. But she appreciated the gesture.

He didn’t look away from her so her eyes didn’t leave his. 

And in the darkness, broken only by the dying fire leaving the shadows more harsh and deep than before, Anne found herself saying, “We could keep going.”

“Where?” Gilbert asked, voice low and gaze just as heavy.

“Anywhere,” Anne whispered.

“We’re going home, Anne,” he said.

“What if home isn’t there anymore? What if I want to keep it all as a happy memory? I don’t want to stop this. I know how this goes. I know you’ll be there whenever I turn around,” Anne whispered, her words becoming more strangled with each one tightening her chest in turn.

The firelight got caught in the tears welling in his eyes, his sad smile returning to his face half hidden in the shadows. 

“We could go somewhere warm,” Gilbert allowed. “Dellie loves the beach.”

“I’ve never been out of the country. We could see the world,” she said, their false words blatantly ignoring that not much of the world was even left.

“Anywhere where the days are long,” he suggested.

“Someplace with plenty of flowers. Tropical and bright and taller than Dellie.”

“Trees with endless amounts of fruit.”

“That provide shade, so I never have to get sunburned.”

“And everyone there is generous…”

“And welcoming.”

“And full of life…”

“Dancing. There’s lots of music and dancing and no one dances without a partner,” Anne added, her mind filling in the blanks with thousands of images from movies and books and the depths of her childhood imagination. The world outside was white and gray and bland, but, in here, she could focus on the bright colors of the flames and the creations of their mind.

“Every sunset matches your hair,” Gilbert said, sounding genuine enough for her shoulders not to tense. It felt so long ago that her biggest worry was her looks, and not her life.

“I’ll get too many freckles,” Anne said, almost as a warning.

“No such thing as too many,” Gilbert said.

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen the sun, I might not have many anymore,” Anne hedged, watching as his eyes roamed her face.

“You still have a few,” he told her.

“I hated them with the passion of a thousand suns, when I was younger,” Anne murmured absently. “Marilla said I was much too vain.”

“They’re cute,” Gilbert said, making her wrinkle her nose at him. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Anne huffed quietly, curling in on herself more as the fire continued to die.

“I wouldn’t,” Gilbert said truthfully. “Not about anything I know for a fact.”

“Is that, then? A fact?” Anne asked, some amusement easing the ache in her chest.

“That is, yes.” Gilbert then reached over to gently move some of her hair out of her face, the color dark in the growing shadows of the abandoned house, before pulling his hand back.

(With the days blurring together into one gray mass, it was hard to tell how much time had truly passed. Her hair, however, was a good indicator. It had grown longer than she’d ever had it. Gilbert had offered to cut it once, but she refused. It seemed too normal of an act. And so unnecessary. Not now.)

“I’d go there. With you. If we really turned around,” Anne whispered.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Gilbert said, a barely there smile on his face.

“I’d want to,” she said, voice almost inaudible.

“We want a lot of things…”

“What do you want?” she asked, curious.

“The things that I don’t know exist for a fact. So maybe I can lie to myself about getting them,” Gilbert said.

“Like what?” Anne whispered, head resting on her arms as she studied his face, or what she could still see of it at least. 

“My home. Bash and Mary. My apple trees. Avonlea being there at all,” he whispered, then met her eye. “You.”

“Am I not a fact?” Anne asked, the words escaping with her breaths.

“I want you to stay one,” he said.

“I can,” Anne told him.

“Even if we aren’t at a tropical beach?”

“Especially then.”

“I want you to be there when I turn around, too,” he said, repeating her words back to her.

“I can,” she whispered, realizing he was much closer than she thought, the shadows warping her perspective. But she made no move to shift away, only reaching out to draw him closer so she could lose herself in his kiss instead of the flames, now nothing but embers.

Anne shivered, both from her back making contact with the cold and unforgiving floor and from the heat of Gilbert’s body against hers, a sensation that couldn’t be more forgiving, as if such a feeling absolved her of any sins, especially the ones they were committing now in a house they had broken into just hours before.

She felt an almost hysterical giggle build in her stomach as stupid things flitted through her mind. She knew ideas like leg-shaving and virginity were social constructs, but did that mean they mattered even less if there was no society any longer? If they truly did not matter before, they definitely did not matter now, but Anne decided she couldn’t care less either way as she laughed into their kiss when Gilbert’s cold hand slid under her layers to make her stomach clench at the temperature difference. (It was so easy to feel like she was sinking into the snow, _becoming_ the snow that they slogged through every day, but this, the blood warming both their veins, reminded her that she was so much more alive than she thought.)

“Sorry,” he murmured as he kissed his way to her neck, doing more to warm her than the fire ever had.

“No, you’re not,” Anne murmured, relishing in the breath of laughter she felt before he pulled back to look at her, the smirk on his face making him look younger than their usual stressors made him out to be.

“Maybe not,” Gilbert teased, removing his hand from beneath her shirt and sweatshirt, his smirk growing at her displeased pout. He didn’t let it stay long as he leaned back in, spurred on by her arms around his neck, hands slipping into his too-long curls as their kiss deepened. One of his own hands kept him up, pressing into her just enough but refraining from being too much, while the other made its way downward.

In what felt like her past life, Anne had been very good at distracting herself should she need it. Losing herself in words and stories and fanciful ideas had been her strong suit. But losing herself in the feeling of Gilbert over her, world forgotten and pushed away at the touch of his hand that had long-since warmed itself on her skin, was another kind of distraction entirely. But just the one she needed.

She used to escape to cold attics and wind-swept trees, but nothing warmed her bones like Gilbert Blythe smiling into their kiss when she jerked against him once his hand reached its destination, where they both wanted him to go.

* * *

Anne was used to sleepless nights, but, as the night ended and she tried to find something edible while Gilbert roused Delphine, she knew another day of plodding through the snow was going to be made that much worse because of it. But usually when she had to face the day without any rest, it was because she either tossed and turned all night, or she spent the darker hours alone and stuck in her head. Last night, however, couldn’t have been different. She was tired, of course, but staying awake all night with someone else, talking and doing… other things, made that exhaustion sit just a bit differently. Like it wasn’t so bad, or at least not as bad as everything else.

“Good morning,” Anne greeted as she was joined in the dilapidated kitchen, her tone belying the gray, dingy light that barely made it past the dusty window panes. 

“Mornin’,” Delphine mumbled as Gilbert set her on the counter, grumpy as always at having been woken up.

“Tell Anne thank you for breakfast,” Gilbert instructed as he moved behind her and carefully pulled her hair out of her face and into the two puffs she insisted on every day, since Anne had met her at least. (Hair ties were near the top of the list of things to look for, where and when they could.)

“Thank you,” Delphine dutifully said, taking the bowl of expertly scavenged oatmeal that Anne handed to her.

“Thank you,” Gilbert mimicked, giving her a wink over Delphine’s head.

Anne rolled her eyes at him as she poured some honey, another special find, into her bowl. (If she didn’t know him so well, the intensity of their time together making up for the shortness of it, she would think this boy was trouble. He was one of those people that fit into her life at this exact moment in time, but he probably would have gotten on her nerves had they met before, especially as children. She could tell he was definitely trouble back then. And she should know since she made her fair share too.)

As they ate quietly, Anne watched Gilbert as he studied the map they had found a month ago. It was stained, but accurate, and was one of the most useful things they had scavenged. But it was the last thing she wanted to see at that moment. Mainly because…

“If we don’t stop too many times, we could reach the coast tomorrow,” Gilbert said, doing some math on the back of an important looking document they had found on the ground of an upstairs bedroom.

“And then…”

“And then we cross our fingers that the bridge is still up,” Gilbert said grimly, glancing at Delphine as she poured more honey over her breakfast with no one stopping her. He had explained, briefly, that getting on a boat, even if they could find one, wasn’t going to be an option for them. Not after his and Delphine’s last experience with one: a poorly timed family excursion that had coincided with whatever unnatural force had tipped the world over the edge and had taken all electronics and modes of transportation and means of communication with it.

Anne frowned down at her food, suddenly not hungry anymore, and felt even more tired than before. She wanted to bring up their plan, no matter how much they both knew it was nothing but fiction. She wanted to run off and not face the real world, which was easy since the real world didn’t exist anymore. She knew she couldn’t, that he would never, but she had that primal feeling in her gut telling her to turn and flee. That had to be better than reaching the end and finding out the truth. For it could be one of two things and she didn’t want to know, not if it was the one that would tear her apart.

“And then Mommy and Daddy?” Delphine asked through a mouthful of oatmeal that was really just honey at this point.

“And then we go to my old house,” Gilbert said carefully as he picked up a rag that looked somewhat clean and tried to wipe off some of the breakfast off of Delphine’s face as she tried to wriggle away.

“And Mommy and Daddy will be there,” Delphine insisted as she scrunched her nose up against what she considered to be an assault.

“Maybe,” Gilbert sighed, shoulders tightening and jaw clenching. He had long since relayed to her the plan, but was finding it difficult to make her understand that it was not definite. He knew he would have to suffer through the aftermath if she didn’t get what she wanted. What they both wanted.

“We can continue our Princess Delphine story today,” Anne suggested, setting her bowl on the kitchen island where it would stay to rot with the rest of the house.

“Can she meet the dragon today?” Delphine begged, lunging forward so Anne had to catch her lest she slide off the counter. 

“Of course,” Anne said, smiling down at Delphine and her big eyes as she let Anne finish wiping away what Gilbert missed. She then helped Delphine hop off the counter so she could run to collect her things and put them back into Gilbert’s bag. When Anne looked back up, she found Gilbert watching her. “What?”

He just tilted his head slightly. He was looking at her as intently as he had the night before, but it was different. But it still made her blush. He looked at her like he was really seeing her. And Anne didn’t know how that made her feel. They had seen so few people since they ran into each other and found out they had a common goal. She wondered how Fate saw her, for it had put this man in her path. So few people left and she was suddenly on the same journey as Gilbert Blythe, who looked at her like he had been waiting for her all along.

“Nothing,” he said eventually, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile that would have infuriated her if she didn’t like it so much. (Or maybe it infuriated her _because_ she liked it so much…)

“We should get going,” Anne said, brushing past him to make sure she had her bag, layers, and weapons. They didn’t meet many threats, but she knew not everyone out there, if anyone was, could be a kindred spirit.

* * *

Anne blinked and they were at the ocean.

She had crossed to the island from the other direction when she had first arrived, anxious to face what she knew to be her last chance at a real home. And it _had_ been world-changing. Eventually. 

Now, she was anxious to face what could either be an end or a continuation, of many things. They said the world was ending, because that was the easiest way to describe it, but Anne knew that the earth on which they stood would always be there, in some form, whether they were or not. As difficult as it was, physically and mentally, the sight of the ocean, and her island in the distance, reminded her how small she was. And how much she wanted to be there to see this view.

“It’s beautiful, even without the sun,” Anne murmured as she and her companions stared out at the water, purposefully ignoring the remains of boats long gone floating with the tide and ice.

“Can we go swimming?” Delphine asked.

“I don’t think so, honeybee,” Gilbert huffed, leaning over to pick her up and she immediately leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Unless you’re a polar bear,” Anne said nonchalantly.

“No,” she giggled.

“Didn’t think so,” Anne said, giving Delphine a wink but getting caught up in the way Gilbert was looking at her again.

After a moment, they both turned to the water again at the same time.

“Should we cross?” Gilbert asked, shifting to face the bridge that looked to still be in one piece.

Anne took a deep breath, the cold air stinging her lungs, her breath visible when she let it all out. The more she looked at the water that separated them from their island, the more the distance grew. But there was no turning back now. Their made-up fantasy beach didn’t exist and there was no escaping to it.

“I’ll go first,” Anne said, eyes falling to the ice beneath the bridge. “In case there’s a problem.”

“I—”

Anne shot him an unimpressed look that shut him up. “Don’t be such a brooding hero,” she complained. “You follow at a distance with Dellie, alright?”

“Yeah,” Gilbert sighed and they started towards the bridge.

The bridge was long, but felt longer without a car. It would take them a few hours to get to the other side, especially if they were being slow and careful. They could only rely on luck to get them across since it was impossible to tell the full state of the bridge until they were already on it. And by the looks of it, the bridge was their only immediate option. If they found a place to sleep once they were across, it would take them all of the next day to get to Avonlea. It was so close they could almost touch it. The problem being them having to reach out into the fog, into the unknown, not knowing what they were getting their hands on until it was too late.

There were plenty of cars dotted along the bridge, some looking as if they had just been parked and abandoned while others were left mangled. Anne kept her eyes open but away from any open or transparent windows. She knew she didn’t want to risk seeing what may or may not be inside.

Behind her, as she walked, Anne could hear Gilbert talking to Delphine and her tiny voice carried, even if what they were saying wasn’t discernable. Just the sound of their back and forth eased some of Anne’s nerves. If they were talking, they were there. She didn’t know how she had done this by herself for so long, before they had crash-landed into her one-woman journey.

It was the smell that told her to look up, and it was her experience that kept her from exclaiming in any way. She stopped, holding her hand up so Gilbert would do the same. Her eyes cut to her surroundings and found a car with an open window and an open trunk. Inside she found what looked to be an old tarp with burn holes in it, but it would have to do. She grabbed it, flung it open, and quickly draped it across the two bodies to her immediate right. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could do with her priority being Delphine and making sure the little girl didn’t see more than she should. The quiet of the world was good for that, at least. As long as they kept their eyes open, they didn’t have to have her close hers at every turn.

Before she knew it, Anne was stepping foot on the island she had called home since she was thirteen. She might have expected it to feel different, like triumph or at least relief, but all it did was remind her that she was one step closer to the end. She had once called herself the bride of adventure, and praised the journey over the destination. But what if it was how someone handled the arrival that said something about them? She wanted to turn back, but she didn’t and wouldn’t. One foot stepped in front of the other as they had for ages. And Anne was almost there, whether she was ready or not.

“Thanks,” Gilbert said to her as he came to a stop at her side, letting Delphine slide onto the ground.

Adjusting her backpack on her sore shoulders, she sighed. “That wasn’t the first and won’t be the last,” she muttered, slowly looking around them to see if there was anything promising. 

“I don’t want to push my luck with her,” Gilbert admitted as he watched Delphine wander around, making sure she stayed close.

“It has to be luck if she’s made it this far without seeing anything,” Anne said, tugging her hat down securely over her cold ears.

“We’ll see how far that luck runs,” Gilbert said cynically.

“If this was a movie, the bridge would’ve collapsed,” Anne said helpfully, making Gilbert snort. 

“Don’t say that, I’ve had enough _The Road_ nightmares as it is,” Gilbert grumbled.

“Mine have been _Deep Impact_ , mostly,” Anne offered, earning her a brief smile that suggested he may not remember the ending of that movie. Anne hadn’t been able to stop crying when she made the mistake of watching it with Diana back in high school.

“It’s getting late, let’s find someplace to crash.”

“So we can get going with those nightmares?” Anne asked sardonically as they started to walk, her hand automatically taking Delphine’s when she scurried to walk between her and Gilbert.

“Can’t have nightmares if you don’t sleep,” Gilbert said, raising an eyebrow at her that made her cheeks turn pink from something other than the cold.

“You’re not that lucky,” Anne mocked, making him laugh as the snow gave way beneath their feet with each step forward, lifting Delphine up by her hands simultaneously whenever she sunk too far into the slush.

* * *

Anne slept that night, not well and not long. Her dreams weren’t based on movies but on what she had seen on the bridge. It wasn’t anything new, but it was never easy, even if she moved past as quickly as she could. It just served as a reminder that that could have easily been her. And that it could easily be anyone she knew.

It was something she had to get over quickly, but not knowing was the hardest part. Growing up during a time where communication had never been simpler or faster made it all the more difficult to deal with the lack of it. Anne had been but a phone call away, or a text or email or even an overnighted letter, but now… there was no one to answer a call that couldn’t connect or any message that had nowhere to go. Her worries were left to fester with no outlet. She had always taken for granted how easy it was to call Matthew whenever she had a nightmare about his heart. Or Diana when she couldn’t fall asleep because she was so worried about growing old alone. Now she was just worried about dying and had all the more reasons to worry about being on her own. But only time would tell. And that time was speeding up on her, as she was now only a day away from getting answers, face to face.

It didn’t help that the place in which they had decided to bunker down for the night was just a single room. There was nowhere for Anne to escape to if she needed to pace in peace, not if she didn’t want to venture outside. She hoped that staying horizontal might force her brain to turn off again, after she woke up for the second time, but she knew hours had passed and her eyes were still tracing the weird shapes in the ceiling.

“I’m not sure I can carry you and Dellie at the same time if you collapse in the snow,” Gilbert mumbled from her right, on the other side of the sleeping lump that was Delphine.

“It’s not far, you could manage,” Anne said, staying on her back with her gaze up.

“It’s not far,” Gilbert agreed, like he knew that was part of the problem.

“What will I do if they’re not there?” Anne asked, hoping it was too dark for him to see anything slip from her eyes and into her hair.

“The same thing that I’ll do if my house is empty too,” Gilbert answered, making her turn her head to face what little of him she could see.

“If I go with you, will you come with me?” Anne asked, words barely making it past the lump in her throat.

“Of course,” Gilbert promised.

Anne looked away again, back at the ceiling and the shapes made by the rotting trees swaying in the frigid wind.

“I’m an orphan. Technically,” Anne admitted. “I was adopted. That’s why I moved to Avonlea after you left.”

“And I left because I became an orphan too,” Gilbert said, still watching her and catching the surprise on her face with how his eyes adjusted to the dark.

“If this was a book, we’d have met because it was destined,” Anne said, making Gilbert smile gently.

“Maybe it was,” he allowed.

“The world just had to end first,” Anne sighed.

“I thought you said you liked tragic romances,” Gilbert said.

Anne huffed. “This was not quite what I had in mind,” she said, feeling rather than hearing Gilbert’s chuckle.

“It could be worse.”

“Don’t jinx it, Gilbert Blythe,” Anne warned, hearing him chuckle this time, the sound making Delphine squirm enough that Anne had to reach down to make sure she was still covered with the blankets. Anne wondered if she’d have difficulty sleeping without being occasionally kicked by a tiny foot.

“If this was a horror movie, we’d have been jinxed already,” he mused, humor audible in his voice.

“After last night, we’d both be goners,” Anne mumbled under her breath, making Gilbert have to turn his laugh into a cough that he had to muffle with his hand.

* * *

Anne blinked and she was at the White Way of Delight. What was left of it.

She was taken back to a time that felt like a different life. She had headed into the unknown, a scared little girl that just wanted to be wanted. Now, she still felt like that scared little girl, one who just wanted a small piece of comfort and peace of mind. There was so much she didn’t know about the world around her, as it was now: endless, gray, and much too quiet. As a child, she had never been very good at being quiet. Now, she would give anything to hear just a few specific voices. They didn’t have to say much. Just enough to give life to their owners. For that was what she no longer knew: life. There wasn’t much left, and her hope in it, _for_ it, had dwindled down as the days passed and the cold continued. 

One of the first few things she had fallen in love with in Avonlea, this small piece of fantastical nature, was just as desolate as everything else. And it did not bode well for the rest of their journey. What was left of it.

(Anne knew it was irrational, but a small part of her had hoped that Avonlea had been left untouched. Surely it was much too special to succumb like the rest of the world...)

“Let’s stick to the woods,” Anne murmured, afraid of what would shatter should she speak up. 

Gilbert nodded. He didn’t want to venture any closer to more houses than necessary either.

For the most part, Delphine was quite good at distracting herself. If there was any one positive thing to come of Anne’s joining of their journey, it was how she spurred on Delphine’s imagination. She seemed to be a fan of Anne’s stories, whatever she could come up with, but also began to tell some herself to fill in the emptiness around them.

But right now, she stayed quiet, as if she could sense that this was what they had been working for all this time, despite this being her first time in Avonlea.

(Anne wished she could have gotten a better welcome than decaying trunks and broken branches.)

The mass of trees they ventured into was still dense, just not from foliage and flora. Certainly no fauna. The snow muffled their footsteps, like always, but Anne was still on edge. She didn’t realize how unsettling it would be to be in a place that felt so familiar, yet looked so different. So off. Like you misremembered your favorite place and seeing it again made you question your memories and their validity and your sanity.

Much too soon, they reached a fork in the path, or what was now just an empty space between the blackened bark and wood. She knew turning right would take her to where she needed to be. But they went left. (Just a few more minutes, just to settle her nerves.)

Even sooner, they were standing amongst the remains of what Anne assumed to be apple trees. There was no way they were ever going to bare fruit again. But Gilbert hardly noticed, his eyes glued to the top of the hill they were cresting. Delphine’s little fists clung to Gilbert’s jacket. He hadn’t let go of her for hours.

They kept walking. Until they reached what looked to be a cemetery of all things. It was the only thing that fit with the landscape anymore. 

There was a house ahead of them.

Anne looked to Gilbert and saw tears in his eyes that reflected the murky gray light of the day. She turned to see what he was seeing and found a building that had seen better days, with moth-eaten curtains blocking the windows.

And smoke coming from the chimney.

“Gil,” Anne whispered.

“It could be anyone,” he said. But he sounded like he didn’t want to believe himself.

Anne forced herself to keep walking and she knew he would follow. At the bottom of the stairs leading to a door, stacks of wood beside it, she stopped. Gilbert did the same beside her and set Delphine down.

“Wait here,” Gilbert instructed. It was almost hard to tell that his hands were shaking beneath his gloves.

(They dropped their bags from their backs, but their shoulders still felt burdened.)

Gilbert mounted the stairs and made it to the door in just a few strides. He raised his hand, then hesitated as if he were unsure about knocking on the door of his own home. But he did anyway.

They heard nothing for a few excruciating minutes. Delphine gripped what she could reach on Anne, her hand and sleeve, and made no noise even though surely she had no idea what exactly was going on, what this place was.

Then a voice called from the other side.

“Who’s there?”

And Gilbert practically slumped against the door, his relief palpable.

“Bash,” he groaned and the door flung open.

“Daddy!” Delphine yelled, her high voice cutting the thick silence like a knife, tearing away from Anne and hurtling herself up the stairs and into the arms of a man that couldn’t look more shocked if he tried.

“Blythe,” the man breathed, making no move to hide his tears as he stared at Gilbert in disbelief, like he couldn’t believe his eyes, while holding his daughter to him like she would disappear if he let go.

“I see you found the place alright,” Gilbert said, tears audible in his voice.

“Don’t you fucking— MARY!” Bash yelled over his shoulder before physically forcing Gilbert into a hug, Delphine between them.

Anne could only watch, unable to tear her eyes away even if she did feel like an intruder. In a movie, this scene would make her cry. In real life, it brought tears to her eyes while also making her feel nauseous.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs and Anne watched as a tired-looking woman turned the corner into what looked like the kitchen.

“What— Oh my Lord,” the woman gasped as if it was ripped out of her.

“Mommy!” Delphine cried, bursting into tears at the same time as Mary who flung herself into the group in the doorway.

“Delphine, oh my God,” Mary sobbed, the little girl falling into her mother’s arms.

With his wife taking their daughter, Bash gripped Gilbert tighter before pulling back to look at him, one hand holding the back of Gilbert’s neck so he wouldn’t go far.

“I can’t believe,” Bash started, his accent intensifying with the emotion evident in his voice. “You had her this whole time?”

“Of course I did,” Gilbert croaked, letting Bash pull him into another hug that squeezed the air out of his lungs. Immediately he was then tugged towards Mary so she could embrace him, Delphine still clinging and making no move to let go.

“Gilbert Blythe, I don’t know what to do with you,” Mary managed.

Gilbert then jerked back. “It wasn’t just me,” he deflected before turning from where they all still stood in the doorway, finding Anne silently watching them from outside. “You should be thanking Anne. She was the one who saved Dellie’s life when she got sick.”

Anne started to shake her head but Gilbert was at her side before she could blink, pulling her up the stairs and into the house, the warmth hitting her as soon as the door closed. Before she knew it, the woman, Mary, was hugging her tighter than she had been hugged in her life.

“Thank you,” Mary said, so sincerely that the lump in Anne’s throat intensified.

“I really didn’t… You’re welcome,” Anne said, giving in as Mary pulled back to where Bash was waiting to wrap his arm around her and focus back on their daughter, still sniffling in their arms.

Anne glanced over to find Gilbert watching her, a threat of a smile on his tear-stained face. It was overwhelming, the look on his face and the emotion bleeding from everyone in the room. Books and stories could never do such a thing justice. They could never accurately capture the desperation, relief, and love of a family reunited like this. It made her ache.

“I should…” she started, taking a step back and clasping her hands together to hide that hers were the ones shaking now.

“I’ll walk with you,” Gilbert said.

“You don’t—”

“I promised I would, didn’t I?”

Anne sighed and nodded, turning towards the door so she could leave this family to reunite in peace.

“Anne!”

Anne didn’t have time to turn around before something ran into the back of her legs. She looked down and saw that it was Delphine. Shifting so she could turn and kneel, Anne then had no choice but to put her arms around the tiny person clinging to her.

“Don’t go,” Delphine whined.

“I’m not going far,” Anne tried to say, her cheeks heating up because of the others watching her. “We’re neighbors now, Dellie, I can visit…”

“Promise?” Delphine sniffed into her shoulder.

“I promise,” Anne vowed and she must have sounded sincere enough because Delphine let her go.

“Okay,” she mumbled, wiping her nose on her sleeve and making Anne smile.

“I’ll be right back,” Gilbert said to Bash and Mary who immediately scooped Delphine back into their arms as if they couldn’t handle her being too far from them right at that moment.

* * *

Anne blinked and she was in the woods again, unable to move another step.

“Anne?”

Anne shook her head.

“We’re almost there,” Gilbert said gently, hand on her arm as he tried to coax her forward with his words.

“I can’t,” she whispered, really feeling like she might be sick this time.

“You’ve made it this far,” Gilbert said, moving to stand in front of her and bending down to kiss her cold cheek, her tears almost frozen on her pale skin. The warmth of his lips almost burned.

“If… if they’re not there. Or it’s just… gone,” Anne gasped, shaking her head and making more tears fall only to freeze before they met the ground.

“I know,” Gilbert sighed, drawing her to him and letting her bury her face against his coat. There wasn’t much for him to say. There wasn’t much for either of them to do, besides find out the facts for themselves.

Anne was so close she could almost smell the familiar scents of a warm fire and fresh bread. But she didn’t want those memories to be marred by the smell of loss and decay. These woods, where she had spent so much time as a little girl with no idea what the future held, already threatened to ruin her previous experiences with their rot. It would be hard enough to see a dead Snow Queen. She couldn’t handle more than that.

Meeting Gilbert and Delphine had stopped her world from tipping over the edge, but no one would be able to keep it from slipping should the lack of life on the farm grounds permeate the house too.

When Gilbert pulled back, the cold air sliding between them like a barrier, Anne kept her eyes closed. He then kissed her softly, neither caring how dry their lips were from the salt in their tears and the harsh, frigid air. Anne’s hand gripped a fistful of his coat as if he was threatening to step away much too soon. He deepened the kiss and she stood on her toes to get that much closer to him. He had been constant in her life, this new life, and she swallowed any noise he made like it was a pledge to stay close. She was going home, to her old home, but her new one in this new world was now within walking distance, just past what used to be an orchard. Her new one was taking the air from her lungs and replacing it with promises.

When he broke away, their breaths mixing visibly in the air, Gilbert then took her hand and began leading her towards Green Gables, a path he still remembered after all these years, even if he hadn’t spent much time at his neighbor’s while watching his father fade.

Gilbert stopped and Anne stopped. She kept her eyes shut and could still smell the comforts of burning wood and baking bread. 

“Anne,” Gilbert said, voice low in her ear.

Forcing her eyes open was as difficult as getting them to shut at night. The sight she was met with was the basis of many of her dreams. (Or the start of a horrific nightmare that lulled her into a false sense of ease before the carpet was ripped out from under her.)

Green Gables stood just as it always had, although without the bright sunshine and green foliage of her childhood. But it was there. And smoke wafting from the chimney, blending in quickly with the gray sky, signalling the presence of a fire.

_Of life._

“Oh,” Anne breathed as if she had been punched in the gut.

Her body moved of its own volition, getting her to step forward and through the gate in the fence like she had a thousand times before.

As soon as she did, the kitchen door flew open, the bang of it hitting the side of the house echoing across the land.

Anne barely felt the sobs building in her chest as Marilla stared at her from across the lawn, hand over mouth at the sight of her.

“MATTHEW!” Marilla suddenly cried and Anne couldn’t describe the emotions that hit her like a slap to the face when she saw Matthew run out of the barn to see what was the matter.

Anne blinked and she was across the slushy snow, all but throwing herself into Matthew’s arms. Before she knew it, Marilla was there as well, crying like Anne had never seen her cry before. She suddenly felt half her age, just a little girl who needed a warm hug from a family more than anything in the world. 

And Anne, so abruptly that it made her dizzy, felt pure exhaustion strike her like a train. It felt like weeks since she last slept through the night, and it had to have been months and months of waking up at the smallest noise and the biggest nightmares. But here, held tight between Matthew and Marilla with their uneven breaths and pounding heartbeats filling her ears, she felt like she could sleep for years. She still had questions, ones that may never get answers, but the relief she felt from this new fact, that her parents were still standing, spread through her veins like a drug. It soothed her like she was being put under for surgery, like all the pain she had stored in her gut for much too long was finally going numb. And she was so very tired from holding it in.

When she opened her eyes and looked over Matthew’s shoulder, Gilbert was gone. But she wasn’t worried. She knew where to find him. And find him she would, after she got some rest.

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes that was a jab at anyone that thinks a haircut is important right now...)


End file.
